


The Loss

by MelanieCampbell



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4121980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelanieCampbell/pseuds/MelanieCampbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not my usual writing by any means, but it wanted out of my brain and I let it. I have no idea where this story will take me. Thanks for reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Barely at the cusp of consciousness, I don't think. I feel. Sorrow. Heartache. Loss.

The feeling is heavy and weighs me down. My mind struggles through it to awareness, and I remember.

Him.

He's gone.

I soon become aware of my body. My arms wrap around the blankets, hugging them tightly against me. Almost desperately, not wanting to let go. I let myself pretend for a moment. Nuzzling them closely, I catch the faint scent of him. I await tears, but none come. Odd. They flowed endlessly last night before sleep mercifully took over. Now, they have abandoned me, and all I am left with is this heaviness. The loss.

 

I can lie here, wallow in his lingering scent and immerse my self in memories. So tempting. So easy. Before I let the flood of memories crash over me, my mind tries desperately to save me.

I must get up it urges me. Surely, someone must need me. Someone depending on me for something.

It sounds logical to me, though I can't think of anyone.

Not anymore.

 

I open one eye. It's harder then it should be. Were my eyelids always this heavy? Taking in the light, I realize it must be late morning. Good. This day is half over. I mindlessly sit up, as a puppet whose strings are pulled, and leave the sanctuary of my bed. I go through the morning ritual motions and try not to notice the quiet all around me.

“It's just me. I'm alone.” Whispers come from the back of my mind, and I hush them.

“Not yet. I'm not ready for the truth.” I answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**This story is not for everyone and is nothing like my usual writing. I took my feelings from a real life tragedy, and used them in this story. It has a major character death, so be aware.**

**In saying that, I hope you will give it a chance.**

**Thanks for reading!**

 

**... Previously...**

"It's just me. I'm alone." Whispers come from the back of my mind, and I hush them.

"Not yet. I'm not ready for the truth." I answer.

**...**

Steph heard banging on the front door, and pulled the pillow over her head.

_Go away. Please go away. Leave me alone._

A tear slid slowly down her cheek.

_Alone. He left me, alone._

With that last word, the tears streamed down her face, and she was soon sobbing. She didn't even notice when the pillow was lifted away, and she was cradled in someone's arms. She buried her face in their shoulder.

Eyes shut tightly. Her head shaking ,"No."

He stroked her hair and whispered what was meant to be calming words in her ear. She didn't hear them, or even feel his touch. He soon gave up trying to calm her, and just rocked her softly in his arms. He held her long after her tears stopped. Till she had fallen asleep from exhaustion. Yet, he didn't lie her down. He held her. He looked down at what was once the face he thought of as innocent. Now, it held misery and pain. Even as she slept. He brushed a curl back that was matted to her forehead.

"Oh, little girl." His voice caught, and the tears now slipped from his eyes. "I am so sorry."

 

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Previously...**

He brushed a curl back that was matted to her forehead.

"Oh, little girl." His voice caught, and the tears now slipped from his eyes. "I am so sorry."

**…...**

"This is my life now." Steph spoke out loud, and her whisper seemed too loud in the quiet room.

Quiet. It's always quiet now. Funny how you take some noises for granted. The sound of him making coffee way too early in the morning. The endless ringing of his phone, and his constant greeting, "Report." The sound of his breath in her ear as he nibble and kissed his way down her neck. A crushing pain raced through her chest, and she screamed before doubling over. The door crashed open, and someone rushed in yelling. Steph had no idea who. She was blinded by her pain.

She felt herself being lift and carried, and heard a voice repeating, "Breathe."

She willed her body to listen, and her ragged breathing steady as she stared forward, eyes open, but seeing nothing. She had know idea how much time pasted, nor did she care. Time meant nothing to her now.

"I remember when there never seemed to be enough time in the day to just be with him. There was always something going on. Some crazy after me, some crisis in Atlanta, always something."

"I know, Steph."

His voice startling her. "Did I say that out loud?"

He nodded slowly.

"I didn't even know you were here." She glance at Les's face, then down to find herself cradle in his arms as he sat on the couch. Looking back at his face, she noted how wrong he looked. "You don't look like my Les." He always had happiness beaming from him. His eyes were always bright. Now... Now, she could only see despair. Reaching up, Steph placed her hand to his cheek. "You look like me."

He gently placed his hand on hers and closed his eyes before nodding slowly.

 

**.....**

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Character's thoughts in italic**

**Previously..**

Reaching up, Steph placed her hand to his cheek. "You look like me."

He gently placed his hand on hers and closed his eyes before nodding slowly

**...**

Steph had always been their sunshine. The one who brought light into their dark and troubled lives. Now, the sun was gone, and replaced with a dense fog that weighed heavily on all of Rangeman.

Woody glanced at the men's faces as he walked through the monitor room to his office. Despondent. He noted the silence, and remembered not long ago how this room was bright and filled with laughter. What a difference she made.

He stopped with his hand on the door knob, "It's like we lost them both."

A wave of nodding passed through the room.

"How is she today?"

They had someone stationed outside her door around the clock, and would check on her often. They frequently found her crying in bed, but it was heartbreaking when they would find her staring out a window. It was as if she was waiting for him to come back home.

Hal shook his head. "Not good. Les found her screaming lying on the floor. He's been up there for hours."

Woody nodded in reply. Choosing to abandoning the ever growing pile on paperwork awaiting him in his office, he headed up to seven. Dread filled him as the numbers approached seven on the elevator display. He hated this now familiar feeling. He tried to push it back with the memory of a happier time.

His mind settled on one of the game nights she would host. Steph invited the guys up to watch the big games, but insisted they bring something unhealthy with them. He remembered her standing at the door in a baseball jersey that looked like it was Tank's size and her curls escaping around her cap as she would inspect the food for unhealthiness.

"You can't watch a game and eat grass and raisins."

"Sprouts, Babe. Not grass." Ranger chuckled.

"If it looks like the lawn, it shouldn't be on a fork!"

Ranger gave in, as he always did for her.

The memory bringing a small smile to Woody's face, till the ding of the elevator broke his small moment of happiness. He found Cal on duty outside the apartment door, and thought he must have pulled a double shift from the tired look in his eyes.

"Is she okay now?"

"No, but she will be." Cal replied. The relief clear in his voice.

**...**

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**.....**

Shock and disbelief filled Woody.

_No. must have misheard I him._ "Is she alright?" He repeated slowly, knowing the answer would be the same miserable look in the guard's eyes as everyday before.

"She will be." Cal repeated softly.

"What? They told me she was found screaming on the floor." Aggravation obvious in his voice. He wasn't sure if it was from Cal's optimism, or that he couldn't heal her pain.

"She talking." Cal sighed in relief, and saw Woody's eyes widen. "They've been talking for hours now." He smiled. "I wouldn't let Vince relieve me, just so I could hear her voice."

Waves of emotions washed over Woody as he listened to Cal's words, before settling on hope. He leaned in close to the door to hear the proof himself. He heard it. She was talking. Not crying. His hand covered his mouth quickly when he heard her soft laugh.

"I know. It's the most beautiful sound." Cal spoke softly. "I think they are reminiscing."

 

**....**

"You alright?"

Steph nodded while readjusting her legs before settling back next to Less on the couch. Her head against his shoulder.

"Can I get you anything?" Less asked and began to stand up.

Steph tug on his arm. "Stay."

He nodded and settled back, pulling her close.

"Finish your story. I want to hear about him as a kid."

Less smiled as he thought of the memory. "Well, Tia, that's means Aunt."

"I know that." Steph rolled her eyes.

"Of course you do." He laughed softly, then continued. "Tia was showing Carlos how to make the family recipe for flan. She told him if he was going to eat it all, and not let anyone else have any, he could make one for himself."

"Wait." Steph sat up. "Carlos? My Carlos? Ate dessert?" The disbelief showed on her face. "You're messing with me." She accused.

"Really! He did back then. Every year, he would somehow sneak in the kitchen, and eat half of it before we were even finished with dinner." He laughed. "You should have seen him in the kitchen with Tia. His white shirt covered in caramel. Me and the cousins teased him all night, calling Caramel Carlos. He didn't seem to care, and I'll be damned, he ate his entire flan himself."

They both laughed at that. "That was my favorite Thanksgiving." Less sighed happily.

"I love that story. Thanks Less."

"Anytime, prima." He chuckled. "That story kind of made me hungry."

Steph jumped up suddenly. "Less! You have to show me the family recipe!"

"Now?"

Steph's stood there, hand on her hip and tapped her foot.

"Alright then. Let's make a Caramel Coved Steph."

 

**...**

**Prima - Female cousin in Spanish**

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
